Fairytales, Faith and Cosmology
by Tweede-Kans
Summary: Illana and Richard decide to broaden Jacob's horizons by exposing him to various books and places off-Island. Work-in-Progress. Technically Richard/Illana/Jacob throughout.
1. The Bookshop

**Author's Note: **The bookstore mentioned here is from my hometown, but I didn't want to mention the name for fear of, I dunno, legal repercussions. Or something. It's a great little place, I spent a lot of time there when I could. Anyways, I promise there's a rhyme and reason for Illana buying what books she does – I suppose _Peter Pan _makes sense, but _Cosmos _will too, later on. The idea of reading Jacob _Peter Pan _– or teaching him to read it, I'm still on the fence as to whether or not he's literate – came when I was watching a musical version of the play, and . . . well, the lyrics of one song struck a chord, concerning Richard and Jacob both – of never growing up, never growing old, on a magical island where around every corner is another adventure. And a ticking crocodile, who reminds me of Smokey. Sort of. In a strange, roundabout way.

More to come, it's a work-in-progress. :) (Oh, and the faith bit of the title will be explained later, too.)

**[Edit: Ta to How Like a Winter, who pointed out that Jacob was reading a Flannery O'Connor book before Locke fell out the window, SO, he's literate. Well, then maybe this is AU or before he could read or... something. But I thought the thanks deserved bold type. :)]**

* * *

Once, off the Island, Illana and Richard passed by a bookstore walking through a sleepy town in Iowa. Glancing up and down the street - although who'd care in the slightest if they took a detour wasn't clear - they opened the door and went in.

They were greeted with a tinkling bell and a room full of shelves; to their left was a rickety, narrow staircase, leading both up and down to a lower level. Richard stared in awe; he had never seen so many books in one place. In his former life, as he liked to think of it, he'd read only the Bible - but here, here were books of stories, books of different philosophies, such a great collection of knowledge that he scarcely knew where to turn. Illana, however, had a clear purpose in mind. Scanning a sign - an arrow pointing to the lower level, marked "Children's" - she took his hand and led him downstairs.

This room - for it was only that - was much different than the first, and Richard couldn't help but smile. Toys lined the walls and bright murals decorated them. The shelves only reached his hip, and around him, children darted between them, calling to their parents if they found something satisfactory. Along a corner stood a desk, and an older woman sat there, behind a computer, idly turning the pages of what looked to be a book for adults; upon closer inspection, Richard saw it was by a man named Dostoyevsky.

"Don't you like him?" he asked, nudging Illana's hand and nodding to the woman's book.

Illana followed his nod. "Fyodor Dostoyevsky-great man. Great author. You should read him sometime, I think you'd like him, Ricardus - heavy on philosophy, commentary on the human condition, while still spinning a very good tale . . . long books, though - some of them, anyway."

As they approached the desk, the woman looked up. "Can I help you two find something?"

Richard glanced uncertainly at Illana. What _were _they doing in the children's section of a bookstore?

"I was hoping to see if you carried something," she said.

"Which is?"

"_Peter Pan, _by . . . J.M. Barrie, I think."

"Ah!" The woman stood up slowly, reaching for a cane. "We have a couple versions - a few down here, which are illustrated, some abridged, and a few upstairs, meant for - well," she winked, "grown-ups. With book club commentaries."

Illana's brow furrowed with thought for a moment, and Richard knew in that instant there was more to this venture than she would tell him. They weren't looking for a book for her - or him. Its recipient was, for the time being, who-knew-where. Or when.

"Do you have something unabridged, but illustrated?"

"Sure do. Right this way…"

With painstaking steps the woman led them to a series of shelves, glancing at the array spread brilliantly in front of them, before turning to Illana. "Would you help me, dear? It's on the bottom shelf and I can't bend down like I used to . . ."

Richard struggled to keep a straight face - it was incredibly awkward to hear anyone call Illana "dear." But the strong-willed, no-nonsense daughter of Jacob didn't seem to mind; ducking her head she let her fingers dance deftly across the spines until –

"Ah!"

She straightened with a book held triumphantly, almost reverently, in one hand.

The old woman smiled broadly. "Find what you needed?"

"Yes, thank you." Illana smiled briefly, and then tilted her head as if struck with a sudden thought, and Richard glanced inquisitively from one woman to the other. "May I ask if you have something else?"

"Sure, dear."

Illana shot Richard a look of _I'll explain later, _and then, almost breathlessly, asked, "_Cosmos _– by Carl Sagan?"

The woman's eyes brightened. "That must be a smart kid you've got!"

Richard felt distinctly uncomfortable as clear green eyes shifted from himself to Illana. _She thinks we're parents! _He gaped, struggling to articulate the thoughts rushing through his mind – _No – we're not parents, he's not our son! _Clearly Illana sensed his fear and bewilderment, because she put a hand on his shoulder, which was oddly soothing. _Like father, like daughter . . ._

"He's not our son," explained Illana. "He's – a friend, you see. He missed out on a lot of things growing up, so Ricar—Richard and I are going to, uhm, educate him."

"All the better – illiteracy in adults is such a shame . . ." The woman sighed heavily, then squared her shoulders. "Well! All the better you're looking for a copy of _Cosmos_ – that's a great book. Very beautiful, and mind-altering – daresay life-altering. But – you must already know that, dear? Hm, with the way Sagan writes, you won't even have to explain much, I'm sure. And what you will have to explain – well, you both seem well up to the task!"

"Indeed." Illana smiled, and Richard was again perplexed at her ambiguity to being called "dear." He sighed. Another custom off-Island he had yet to learn, he supposed.

"Anyways, dears, upstairs and by the far wall is the astronomy section. It should be there. If not, ask at the front desk."

"Thank you!" Illana took Richard by the shoulder and waved farewell to the children's bookseller. When they reached the narrow staircase that would take them to the upper level – ground floor, as it were, they heard the woman call after them,

"I hope you find what you're looking for, dears!"


	2. Peter Pan

**Author's Note: **I'm definitely sensing AU-ness . . . I mean, first, Jacob's been watching so many people through the Lighthouse, so how could he not know of the "badness" of the world? Or at least have some idea that it's not perfect. And, well, who knows his off-Island activities, when they took place - so who knows when THIS takes place, haha. Definite, definitely AU. But it's fun to write. :)

Anyways, many thanks to the kind reviews on the last chapter, I hope this one's enjoyable. :)

* * *

The gifts brought by Illana and Richard were strange to Jacob. Occasionally, they'd brought him things, little trinkets or examples of things not remotely existent on the Island – but never anything like this.

He looked first at their covers, and then admired their thicknesses, and flipped through them, scrutinizing while not yet understanding. The markings they harbored were of different size, and one was substantially more densely marked than the other. The latter, the smaller one, had drawings, in black and white, as one might make scratching on a rock with a burnt stick. And upon closer inspection, the thicker of the two had glorious pictures, too, but these were in colors so vivid his eyes could scarcely conceive of their beauty. Jacob smiled at seeing them; he understood then what these gifts were.

"Stories." He raised his gaze to meet Illana's face, which was altogether impassive except for the dancing of her eyes and the slight quirk at the corner of her mouth. Richard stood silently by her side, but at the single word he broke into a broad smile – he remembered well the day he'd understood that stories were written and could be read. The joy he'd felt then – the wonder!

"That's right." Illana took the books from Jacob's hands and added, "I'm going to teach you how to read. I think you'll enjoy these. And Ricardus –"

"I've got something else to teach you. To . . . show you." Richard felt awkward at the thought of _teaching_ Jacob anything; here on the Island, he was as near to omniscient as was humanly possible. _But soon he'll have to leave here – to go gather up the candidates. We need to show him bits and pieces – the best, really – of what the world has to offer, before he sees the worst._

Illana and Richard had arranged it so she would tackle reading – _Peter Pan _first, of course – and then Ricardus would take him off-Island, only for a day, that he might explain something before Jacob dove into the known universe with the deep sciences and Carl Sagan's cosmic perspective.

* * *

"I think it's important," he'd explained on their way back, "that he understands our place as much as we know it – from a spiritual standpoint – before exposing him to the sciences. I think, in many ways, religion is easier to grasp than science, Illana, and that's why I want him to know the existence of both. I think if he were to read about the sciences before I take him with me, what I have to show him won't matter."

"What _will _you show him?" Illana had tilted her head, smiling slightly.

"I was religious – before Jacob brought me here. I'm no theologian," Richard continued quickly, "and I don't enjoy theology for its own sake." His face grew dark for a moment. "A priest once told me that I was doomed to hell because I had no time to do penance for the sin of killing someone. What comfort is that to a man who knows he will hang anyway? Who killed someone out of fear for losing another?"

Illana gently took his hand. "That's why I've never enjoyed religion. People become so absorbed in their rules, they forget the humanity."

Richard had laughed. It seemed terribly ironic that Illana would begrudge anyone rules when she and her father lived their lives by rules neither of them fully understood. "Those aren't the kind of rules I'm going to show him," he said at last. "You can't show someone theology. And you can't show them the stars and expect them to understand, without instruction, that we – our world - is just a pale blue dot. It's in our nature to think we're in the middle of everything."

"This is true." Illana had offered a small smile. "You'll be a good teacher, Ricardus. If anyone were to teach Jacob about religion, I would want it to be you."

* * *

Illana began first by reading to Jacob, and showing him the illustrations gracing the pages of J.M. Barrie's classic. And rather quickly, over the course of a few weeks, she showed Jacob how words are formed, with the markings, and how each marking by itself makes a sound, and words are composites of those sounds. It didn't take as long as she'd thought, for Jacob was uncommonly astute, and before long he was reading aloud to her – slowly, and still with mistakes, but reading nevertheless.

"The Lost Boys," Jacob announced one evening as he, Illana and Richard sat around the usual fire stoked in Tawawet's shadow. "And Peter – Peter brings them to an island, called Neverland, and they never grow up."

"That's right." Illana grinned at Richard over the fire, and he smiled back. He was astonished at Jacob's progress but took as much, if not more, pleasure from seeing Illana so satisfied with her handiwork.

Jacob's face was shadowed, his brow furrowed, jaw set, eyes grim. Richard felt his hands twist in the sand, a habitual gesture he'd acquired over the years for when he was anxious. How many fistfuls of sand he'd clenched between tense fingers!

"They never grow up," he continued. "Their parents don't even notice they're gone, and so Peter claims them. And every now and then, it says, when there are too many of them, Peter" – he'd brought the book with him (now very sandy, and wrinkled from water, and generally battered so as to make a librarian faint) and frantically searched though it – "'thins them out.'" He raised his head and fixed Richard with a fierce stare. "He kills them, doesn't he? Or feeds them to the ticking crocodile?"

From within the jungle came the unmistakable moan and disheartened mechanic cries of the man in black, the smoke monster, who at one time or another had chased them all, futilely pursuing them as the crocodile had pursued Captain Hook. The sounds were familiar but they never ceased to raise a shiver up Illana's spine.

Glances were exchanged hastily across the fire. Neither Illana nor Richard had expected Jacob to take the story so seriously. At last Richard managed, "I haven't read - ! Why are you asking _me_?"

"Because I made you ageless!" The fury in Jacob's voice rattled them; from his shaking hands it was clear he was a mere moment away from tossing the book into the flames. "_I_ made you ageless. And _I_ brought people here – and they _died_, because I refused to intervene! And _I_ made the crocodile, and –"

"Oh, God," groaned Illana. Raising her voice and holding out her hands pleadingly: "Jacob – Father, listen! Please, Father; it's alright, it's alright, I promise . . ."

At her voice Jacob grew still, though his breathing was still audible in the ominous silence and beads of sweat dripped from his brow.

"Give me the book," murmured Illana, and Jacob slowly obliged. She tossed it to Richard, and added, "You take that. Do what you want with it. Bury it. Hide it. Read it yourself, I don't care – just _go_, Ricardus!"

Bewildered, Richard rose to his feet with the offending material and wandered off along the beach. He didn't understand. He grasped, of course, from Jacob's summary and emotional tirade, what had upset him. In _Peter Pan _he had seen an awful parallel to himself, to the Island, to the scores of people he'd brought, to gifts he'd bestowed without ascertaining whether or not the recipient fully understood the magnitude of eternity. Illana, of course, wouldn't have thought of these things, or else she never would have given Jacob such a book . . .

But there they were, with an enormous problem on their hands. If Jacob couldn't stand allegory . . .

Richard shook his head sadly and looked up at the vaulted heavens with their wheeling stars and innumerable planets. He'd borrowed _Cosmos _from Illana, who had been reading it herself while teaching Jacob, and was astounded. Billions and billions of stars, and planets, and _worlds _were out there, beyond sight . . .

Who was he, to be dismayed at Jacob's reaction? Had he himself not reacted strongly to Biblical stories – ethics, morals, all wrapped up themselves in the same allegory as had so troubled his companion?

He sighed. Tomorrow. It had to be tomorrow he took Jacob off-Island, assuming Illana could properly restore her father to his usual, rational – albeit naïve – self.


End file.
